


M25 Discord Server Drabble Collection

by PositivePumpkin



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Dom/sub, Drabble Collection, Egg Laying, Flogging, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, In Each Chapter, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Other, Painplay, Spanking, Subspace, Wing Grooming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2020-10-05 10:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PositivePumpkin/pseuds/PositivePumpkin
Summary: Just some snippets/drabbles I do as quick-fill for prompts in the server.EDIT: Added a Table of ContentsLinkto the server if anyone's interested.





	1. Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Table of Contents

Chapter 2: Crowley is embarrassed about being aroused; Aziraphale makes him ask for what he wants (379 Words)

Chapter 3: Aziraphale drools over Crowley's dick (230 Words)

Chapter 4: Wing Grooming, non-urgent arousal, no sex (604 Words)

Chapter 5: Aziraphale gets a new cologne, sending Crowley into a Lust-haze WARNINGS: mildly dubious consent (518 Words)

Chapter 6: Crowley looks good on his knees, nonsexual submission/bdsm, nonsexual subspace (884 Words)

Chapter 7: BDSM, crying, spanking, overstim, flogging, bloodplay, comeplay, come-in-blood-play (1104 Words)

Chapter 8: Holy liquids (cum/tears/saliva) burn demons, the same is true of hellish liquids burning angels. WARNINGS: painplay, consent issues associated with the pain play (1101 Words)

Chapter 9: Crowley lays a clutch of 3 eggs (1008 Words)

Chapter 10: WARNING: Implied/Referenced Noncon. Gabriel noncons Aziraphale, but it's actually Crowley (during the body swap). This deals with the aftermath, and telling Aziraphale what happened in his body. (579 Words)

Chapter 11: Kilgrave is a demon and he mind controls aziraphale and crowley CW: mind control, manipulation, nonconsensual feeding


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Fill: you know what's good? One of the people being embarrassed about being aroused and working them up until they're begging for it. making them ask for whatever they want when they're flushed bright red and mortified

"Angel, please!" He couldn't look him in the eye, face red, blush scattering down his chest, shoulders, and back. Go-Sa-Someone, he wanted this. Never thought he could have this, and now that it was happening, he couldn't stop the embarrassment. He didn't really think, or expect the angel to abstain from 'pleasures of the flesh.' But, to know his angel was experienced, would already know how to pleasure him, well, the idea alone had merits. And here they were now.

"You'll have to be specific dear, I'm not a mind reader," Aziraphale hummed into his neck, terribly poised considering their nudity and the three fingers still fucking into Crowley's impossibly, (virgin, Aziraphale thought briefly) arsehole. It had been over 6,000 years, and Aziraphale would be damned if he did anything the demon didn't expressly want. Plus, it was fun to watch and feel him squirm on his fingers.

"You know full well what I want," Crowley tried for a snarl, but it was too breathy to be anything other than a debauched moan. He couldn't help the little rocking motions as he rode Aziraphale's fingers. All he could think and feel was Aziraphale around him, in him, but he wanted _more._ Wanted to feel Aziraphale's thick, plump cock filling him, pressing him open further. Was the angel really going to make him say it?

"Oh my dear, if you don't want to tell me, we don't have to go any further. I'm sure you can come on just my fingers, hm?" Aziraphale laid gentle, loving kisses on the demon's neck and shoulders. Truthfully, the sight of the demon wrapped in one of his arms, with his arsehole wrapping his fingers, was quite a lovely sight. He wouldn't mind doing this until Crowley came.

And Crowley knew it. He whined, a desperate keen before whatever resolve, whatever was holding his tongue overcame the mortification he felt, "Please, Aziraphale, please angel, angel, angel, fuck me, please fill me with your cock, please I want it so-" His tirade was cut off, as fingers left him, empty only long enough for a thick head to press inside, and soon, sooner than probably was best, that deliciously plump cock was filling him, spreading him even further and he'd never before felt so complete.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill: Aziraphale, drooling over Crowley's dick: Can I have it? Please?

A hand in his hair held him tight, supernatural strength not allowing any movement. Oh, he could over power the fist in his hair, but it was Crowley. Still, the thought was tempting. Held over, just out of reach of that delicious mouthful. Crowley's long, curved penis was slick with Azirafell's drool, but the poor angel hadn't even gotten a lick in yet. And oh, he really was _gagging_ for it, or at least, he would be soon he prayed.

His chin was slick, mouth wide open, tears in his eyes from struggling. Oh he so desperately wanted it, why, why, why Crowley? He whined, once more trying to fight the hand that held him, trying to get close, just a little and he could lick it, just a flick of tongue, just a taste.

"Wow, angel, look at you," Crowley hummed, despite his attempts at nonchalance, he was just as flushed and eager. "Do you really want this? Aziraphale? A demon's cock down your throat? What _would_ Heaven think?"

The demon's cock twitched in interest, and Aziraphale whined desperately at the sight, quickly sticking his tongue out further, aiming for a taste. With his tongue now out, mouth obscenely wide open, Crowley slid his cock in until Aziraphale's nose was pressed against into his short red curls. Aziraphale's grateful moan earned him a quick, aborted thrust into his throat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill: drabble some cute groomies for me :P

"You groom your own wings?" Aziraphale hadn't meant to sound so hurt. He knew, objectively that the demon wouldn't let other demons touch his wings, that he'd most likely been grooming them on his own for the past 6,000 years, and they did always look nice. But, still. He had thought that maybe, now that they were closer than ever, they could share this.

Crowley seemed to pick up on his train of thought, and sighed, loud and over dramatic, "Angel, it's nothing personal, I've just been doing it on my own since before time was even a concept." He then got this assessing look about him, sharp eyes dissecting the angel, "Why? Do you want to groom my wings?"

"Oh! Can I?" Aziraphale perked right up, hands fluttering with unconcealed eagerness. Crowley made a big show of being put out, which of course, he wasn't. He took off his shirt and spread his glossy black wings. They were of course, immaculate, he took great pride in his appearance after all. If Aziraphale was upset he didn't have much work to do, he didn't show it.

What Crowley wasn't expecting, was how nice it felt to have those plump fingers carding through his feathers. He bit his lip to avoid an embarrassing groan of appreciation. It never felt like this when he did it himself.

His feathers were soft, not in the down sort of way, but like silk. Cool to the touch and smooth. Black as they were, that had never been from Hellfire or burning pits, no, he always had wings, black as night. The only difference in them now, from then, was the lack of stardust glittering his wings. But, that may be from not being in the cosmos as much as being a demon.

Soft, gentle hands smoothed feathers into the places they were already in. Doing nothing more than petting. He let himself relax into the pleasantly warm ministrations. Feeling this overwhelming sense of care, of love, of adoration. It was more than he really ever thought he'd have, and now he could physically feel it in his most intimate of places.

A firm pressure started kneading his oil glands, and he couldn't stop the surprised moan. That certainly never happened when he was grooming himself either. Was different having those warm fingers press into him, slicking themselves on his preening oils. It was to Aziraphale's credit, that he didn't even stop, despite being thoroughly surprised by the noises the demon was now desperately trying to muffle.

By the time Aziraphale finished oiling the feathers, Crowley was a loose mess. Relaxed in ways he hadn't felt before, becoming nothing more than putty in Aziraphale's hand. The demon, always more snake than man-shaped being, was impossible to move. Loose limbs spilling out of Aziraphale's hold. With a huff, he positioned him around, turning so that the demon was now in his lap, draping over him.

Of course, Crowley soaked in that warmth, feeling an almost sleepy contentedness. He was hard, but less concerned about getting off than feeling his angel's hands back in the softer parts of his wings. He whined until those fingers were once more in feathers. This time reaching in and gently carding in the soft down that never did enough to keep his wings warm.

"You're quite lovely, dear," Aziraphale murmured against his ear. He couldn't say this wasn't similarly affecting him, could feel his erection pressing against Crowley's arse, and likewise Crowley's erection pressing gently into his tummy. But like Crowley, he wasn't concerned with getting off, just feeling those soft feathers and strong muscles.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Aziraphale tries out a new cologne on his barber's suggestion. All is well until Crowley walks by and suddenly buries his face in Aziraphale's neck, clinging without letting go.   
It seems the humans have accidentally created demon-catnip.
> 
> Scent-kink? Figure there's snake pheromones in the cologne.

Aziraphale had just finished putting on his new cologne, he was sniffing his cuff, but he couldn't smell a thing. When Crowley walked in, saying a greeting that was suddenly cut off. The angel looked up to see Crowley staring at him gobsmacked. The infernal glasses he wore skewed enough to see his slit pupils widening, something that only happened in snakes when they were hunting and needed all the light they could get. He was about to ask what was the matter, when he was suddenly being pressed into by the demon.

"Ah! Crowley!" A nose was pressed against his neck, forked tongue laving just under his ear, where he'd dabbed some of his cologne this morning. Searching hands roamed his body. Aziraphale could only grab and hold on as Crowley sniffed and licked and rutted against him. When he seemed to have gotten enough of that taste, or it was no longer being picked up by his sensitive tongue, he moved to search out more. The angels clothes came apart as desperate hands and tongue chased that scent. The bookshop was still open and people were walking outside, it was nothing short of a minor miracle that anyone intending to come in found they suddenly had other plans.

"Crowley! Please, wha-" Aziraphale was cut off with a moan as the demon found the spot on his chest where he spritzed earlier. His own erection was straining against the fabric of his trousers, leaking tip creating a delightful wet spot. Aziraphale removed his hands from their tight grasp on Crowley, moving to remove his trousers and pants. This seemed to finally spur the demon on, as Crowley moved behind Aziraphale, bending him over the counter and sliding one of his two cocks in a miraculously slick and ready entrance.

Crowley brought his nose against Aziraphale's neck, just below his other ear, where cologne still remained. He rutted hard and fast into Aziraphale, chasing his own pleasure while licking and nipping at the angel's neck. The demon wrapped around him, arms holding him tight, one leg wrapped up around his, like a snake constricting it's prey--or it's mate. Over too soon, he could feel the demon's orgasm and he groaned into the counter, still achingly hard. Then, the cock was removed and replaced instantly with the demon's second one. Aziraphale realized then, that if he wanted to come, he'd have to do it himself.

Shaking, he reached down and began stroking himself in time with Crowley's desperate thrusts. He finally came, spilling all over the side of his counter, when he felt fangs pierce his skin. Crowley slid deep into him, filling him with his spend until slowly sliding out, liquid still seeping from his cock. Ah! A mating plug. He still felt deliciously full after Crowley slid out.

"Ahhh Aziraphale?" Crowley's voice was breathy and confused, "wha?" He was panting hard. Aziraphale turned to look, seeing the pupils turn back to their familiar slits, no longer blown wide by desire.

"My dear, I think you rather like my new cologne," Aziraphale said with a breathy laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Crowley looks good on his knees, Aziraphale has him help shelving books on the lower shelves to keep him there
> 
> Nonsexual submission, nonsexual subspace, pure fluffy sweetness

"You know my shelving system?" Aziraphale sounded less surprised than he felt. It was after all, no small miracle that kept his books as disorganized as possible. There of course, _was_ a system, but only just so. Still, now that the apoca-whatever-that-was, is over, and he'd been gifted with many new books, and his old books were put away in a rather garish system that any one could just find a book in, he had some redecorating to do.

"Course I do, Angel, been around it long enough to pick it up," Crowley, ever dismissive of the amount of attention he spends on Aziraphale, says, trying not to draw fact that he's known it almost since the bookshop was built and filled. "Where do you want me?" He teased instead.

"On your knees, please," Aziraphale said, as primly as he could manage. He wasn't expecting the bright flush and the thud a Crowley immediately dropped to his knees like his strings were cut. And oh, that wasn't fair. Looking up at him with that delightful pink spreading on his cheeks, slit pupils slightly widened in the face of his desire. He swallowed thickly, noticing with some level of heat, that Crowley's eyes tracked the movement of his throat. "Thank you, my dear," _for this gift_, _for your devotion_, _for your service to an old battered angel, like me_.

He started handing books to Crowley, who, of course, knew exactly where they were meant to be. And if they were new, he knew just where Aziraphale would like them to be. He stayed on his knees, occasionally shuffling about to different shelves, but never once rising to his feet. Even, at the end of the day, when all the lower shelves were filled, he stayed there. His eyes had long hazed over and he seemed pliant and vulnerable in a way Aziraphale had never seen before. It was intoxicating.

Aziraphale wanted to do all sorts of, well, sinful things to the strangely soft demon. But, well, that wouldn't be fair, would it? With the demon so relaxed and trusting, so sweet, leaning in to every casual caress, could he even consent to anything more? He looked positively drugged! But, well, Aziraphale couldn't help but marvel that he slipped into this state doing nothing more than what he'd asked.

"Crowley, my dear, come here," Aziraphale beckoned, and still Crowley did not rise, he merely shuffled over on his knees still, until he could rest his head in the angel's lap. "Now, I'm going to touch you dearest, is that okay?" Crowley appeared to be beyond words at the moment, as he simply nodded his assent as best he could while refusing to leave the angel's lap. He managed a small noise of protest when his head was lifted by the chin, before Aziraphale reached under his arms and carefully, but easily, lifted him right up, until the angel had a lap full of pliant demon.

He carefully maneuvered Crowley into some semblance of comfortable positioning, pressing his head against the shoulder of the angel, and arms wrapped loosely over him. Aziraphale hummed cheerily as he pet the back of his dear boy's head, while gently rubbing a healing miracle into those no-doubt sore knees. Crowley made the most adorable questioning chirruping noise (so unlike a snake!) at the healing, before humming and settling bonelessly against him.

Aziraphale kept petting Crowley's hair, and eventually started rubbing up and down his back. They had been shelving for hours, Crowley going under at some point not long after falling to his knees. The angel was starting to get worried, as it seemed Crowley had no intention of getting back into his normal headspace. Still, he'd stay here as long as Crowley continued making those happy hums, almost-hisses.

It was well into the night when he'd noticed those hisses had turned into light snores. He couldn't help the soppy smile as Crowley had fallen asleep in his arms. That he'd been so blessed with such a loving, dear creature. The most kind-hearted demon, the gentlest soul in all of Hell, and he'd loved him. An angel, a principality, who was the top tier in the lowest circle of Heaven's hierarchy. A demon powerful enough to stop time, and here he was gently snoozing in Aziraphale's arms. The thought alone was heady and intoxicating.

He lifted his dear boy, gently cradling him, so as to not awaken him. Aziraphale carried him upstairs to the rather recently added flat, complete with bed. He draped the demon back over his body, so he could free an arm to pull back the duvet, then carefully laid the demon down on the bed. He attempted to cover him up, but Crowley wouldn't let go of his lapels. Eventually he sighed, full of love and adoration, and took off the jacket. Immediately, Crowley curled up with it, pressing the old thing into his face and breathing deep.

Aziraphale's heart broke at the sight. He kissed his dear boy's forehead, before lifting the covers once more to settle in next to the demon. They'd have to have a talk once he woke, to explore this in a rather intimate light, but for now, he was content just watching him sleep, face pressed into his old worn jacket.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bdsm, crying, spanking, overstim
> 
> Warnings: all of the above, bdsm, flogging, spanking, slight blood play, come play, come in blood play

Crowley had been tortured in Hell before, most, if not all demons had. This, this was a different kind of torture. Sat-Go-Someone, if he got sent back to Hell and tortured again, it'd be quite embarrassing if he popped a boner.

Aziraphale looked like a masterpiece, or at least, what he could see in the mirror in front of him. Those powerful arms swinging down, the harsh, warm pain of the flogger. He couldn't help the gasps and moans ripping out of his throat with each hit. Aziraphale had the sexiest, determined look on his face, just shy of righteous fury.

Crowley was shaking, barely holding onto the handholds hanging from the ceiling, the only thing keeping him up aside from Aziraphale's divinely dark voice reminding him that if he doesn't keep his feet under him, he'll have to stop.

With one more powerful swing, he felt something break. His skin, his resolve, the tears held back now flowing out with a sob as his legs turned into jelly. In an instant Aziraphale was rounding on him, determined fury, not even softened by concern. "What did I say my dear? Are we going to have to stop?"

"Please, please, please, Angel, Aziraphale, please," Crowley wasn't sure what he was begging for, just that it was too much, that pain warmed his back in the most devilishly pleasant way. Just that he wanted Aziraphale, his angel, in every way he could have him.

Aziraphale seemed to take pity on him, or something akin to it at any rate. "Let go my dear, I'll catch you." And Crowley's hands let go of their holds, falling directly into Aziraphale's strong arms, not even weakened from the many lashes he'd dished out just moments ago. "Now, if you can't even stand, we're going to have to find another way to punish you, aren't we my dear?"

"Please, please," Crowley was sobbing fully now, not sure if he was begging for mercy or more. His head was pressed into Aziraphale's shoulder, still fully clothed, the bastard, making his own nudity, all except the leather cock cage, so much more prominent.

"Very well," Aziraphale sighed, like he was so put out, when that couldn't be further from the truth. He lifted Crowley up, and carried him to the settee, before settling down on it and splaying the demon on his lap. His leather covered cock pressed into deliciously thick thighs, and he sobbed once more, desperate for release. "You remember your word, dear boy. When you've had enough punishment, beg for my Mercy, and I'll see about releasing you."

Aziraphale began laying gentle smacks up Crowley's thighs to his arse cheeks. It wasn't anything more than a slight warmth, until it was much, much more. He picked up the pace quickly and brutally. Laying harsh smacks, so hard and firm, Crowley briefly thought he might've miracled up the paddle. He kept going until pink became red, became near bruised black.

Crowley was an absolute mess of tears and sobs and cries. He could feel the harsh lines on his back from the flogger, the trickle of demonic blood from when it broke skin, and now the aching warmth of his arse and thighs. His punishment for not being strong enough to take what Aziraphale dolled out.

A final smack to his thigh had Crowley almost coming, despite the cock cage. It was too much, too much, he needed, needed, "MERCY! Please! Angel! Mercy!" Finally Aziraphale was hushing him, soothing him with words, as was their agreement. No healing until the scene was over, this wasn't the end, just a sweet release.

"How do you want me, my dear? Do you want me to get you off? Fuck your beautifully reddened arse?" Aziraphale asked gently, features finally smoothing back into their soft, loving expression. Crowly groaned, hiding his face, rubbing tears into the cushions. Helpless still, he gave a weak thrust against Aziraphale's thighs, the motion pulling at all his sore spots.

"Hmm? Answer me, dear," Aziraphale's hand caressed the demon's sore arse, causing another broken cry to be wrenched out. It wasn't punishment for not talking, not quite, but Crowley wasn't about to let it become that, he couldn't take anymore.

"Inside me, Angel, don't care how, just, please, need you inside me," Crowley begged as if his arse depended on it, and in a way, it did. He felt the cock cage be slipped off, and immediately he hardened. That alone was almost too much, being sent back to the cosmos, to the very stars he helped create.

A slick finger gently probed, finding easy entrance. "Oh, oh my, you get looser from the pain than from my cock," Aziraphale groaned in appreciation, before slipping in two fingers, finding the normally tight arsehole giving way easily. He gently worked him open, scissoring and teasing still, pressing against that sweet spot just to hear his demon sob and cry some more, too debauched for moans.

It wasn't long before the angel couldn't take it anymore, and with a snap, his clothes were neatly folded and put away in his wardrobe. He maneuvered Crowley to drape over him, and lined up his cock. He kept an eye on the wretched face of his dear boy as he slid home with almost no resistance. Crowley let out a wanton cry, just shy of a desperate scream, tears making a mess of his face and dripping down his chest now.

The pain was everything, too much and too right, too good. Crowley bounced on Aziraphale's cock, arse smarting with every thrust the angel gave. Crowley was beyond words, beyond comprehension, could only make desperate noises and pitiful cries as Aziraphale fucked him. The angel was being gentle, at least, gentler than their normal romps, but with his arse on fire, it felt so much more, just more, more.

Without seeming to realize it, Aziraphale pressed a hand over Crowley's back to keep him stead, and that was it, he was coming. He painted himself and his angel with his come, thicker and more than he'd ever come at first go round before. Aziraphale pulled out, just before he could finish inside his dear boy, and instead came in long spurts across Crowley's abused back. Come mixing with blood in a horribly wonderful taboo manner.

Aziraphale spread his spend into the wounds of Crowley's back, causing the demon to keen desperately against him, the poor boy's cock twitching with a final spurt. The angel wasn't quite a being of mercy, he wanted inside Crowley, inside in every way he could imagine.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: holy liquids (cum/tears/saliva) burn demons, hellish liquids burn angels.
> 
> CW: painplay, consent issues associated with the painplay

The first time it happened, the angel was in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. It _burned_. Crowley wasn't about to say anything though. No need to make the angel feel worse, not when he was mourning the loss of so much knowledge. 

The first time it happened, it was at the ark, Crowley had tears in his eyes. The demon sputtered, claiming it was just dust. Aziraphale rubbed away the liquid that had fallen. It _burned. _He wasn't about to say anything though. No need to make the demon feel worse, not when he was mourning the loss of so much life. 

The next time it happened, he was mourning the loss of his dear friend, Oscar bloody-fucking Wilde. He had wiped the tears from Aziraphale's face before gathering him up and tucking him into the bed that just was just summoned into existence, disgustingly tartan. Crowley checked his hand, no marks, no reddish tint, just the lingering pain of holiness. Well, he'd tell him later.

The next time it happened, he was drunk, pissed, completely sloshed. They were debating something, the angel couldn't even recall the topic, just that Crowley's eyes shone. He reached over and wiped tears away, eyes flicking down to check for the burns he felt, but his skin remained unblemished. He ended up carrying Crowley upstairs to his flat, and laid him in bed. There was still a lingering pain of hellishness. Well, he'd tell him later. 

The first time it happened, the angel had offered a bite of his food. When Crowley's mouth closed on the fork, he felt a slight tingling. Curious, he waited for Aziraphale to eat some more of the angel-food cake. Was it the cake? When Aziraphale got a second dessert, he asked for a taste of that one. And again, the tingling, almost numbing sort of pain returned on his tongue. Not the cake then. 

The first time it happened, the demon had offered the rest of his food. Crowley wasn't as interested in food as Aziraphale was, so he gratefully accepted. When he bit down on a half-eaten bite, he noticed a slight tingling. Curious, he hummed and nibbled on untouched pieces of food. The tingling, almost numbing sort of pain only appeared when he bit where Crowley had eaten. 

The next time it happened, Aziraphale had passed out after one of their rousing drunken debates. The poor Principality would definitely regret not sobering up, come morning. It was moments like these that Crowley shamelessly enjoyed. He could watch unabashed, take in all that was the soft angel. He was sure he was smiling soppily. He reached over to wipe at the drool running down Aziraphale's chin, when he recoiled with a hiss. That tingling, that numbing sort of pain. So that's what it had been.

The next time it happened, Crowley was sleeping in his lap after a stressful day. The poor demon would definitely be flustered once he woke up. It was moments like these that Aziraphale shamelessly enjoyed. He could watch unashamed, take in all that was the hard lines of demon. He was certainly smiling soppily. He reached over to wipe at the drool accumulating on his lips, before it could drip onto his trousers. That tingling, that numbing sort of pain. So his suspicions were confirmed. 

The first time it happened, Crowley's hands were in Aziraphale's pants. He'd been impatient, _too fast_, but this time, the angel wasn't complaining. No, he was making delightful little noises in Crowley's ear, mouthing at it. The tingling pain had taken on a new light with the gentle nibbles and breathy moans. He wanted to taste everything Aziraphale had to offer. He kissed and bit the angel's neck, and he was coming, wetting his pants and dripping on the demon's hand. He couldn't stop the hiss, as the cum burned bright and hot. He hoped the angel would pass it off as aroused, which wasn't a lie. Crowley would do anything to keep doing this.

The first time it happened, Crowley's hands were in Aziraphale's pants. He'd been so needy, desperate, and it was arousing. He was whispering sweet encouragements against Aziraphale's neck. The tingling pain of the demon's saliva had taken on a new light with gentle kisses and sweet promises. Crowley hissed when Aziraphale came, and the angel wanted him to make that noise again. Aziraphale released his tight grip on Crowley's shirt and shoved his hand in the demon's too-tight trousers. He teased and fucked into Crowley's wet heat, the burning intensified when the demon came with a shout of Aziraphale's name. Aziraphale couldn't hide the scrunch of his brow, but hopefully the demon would pass it off as concentration. Aziraphale would do anything to keep doing this. 

The next time it happened, Crowley had been on his knees. He really could do sinful things with his tongue. Aziraphale was biting his knuckle, to keep from making noises, to keep from thrusting deep into Crowley's mouth, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the full feeling in his throat as he slid down until his nose brushed white-blonde curls. The hand in his hair was gently petting him, but when he tried to pull back up, it forced him down hard, holding him in place. Aziraphale whined deliciously before gripping Crowley's hair and gently, carefully, barely thrusting into the demon's throat. Crowley choked down the pain as Aziraphale bypassed his mouth and tongue, and came down his throat. He could feel the cum's burning warmth travel down his corporation. 

The next time it happened, Crowley had been spread beneath him. He really could do divine things with his tongue. Crowley was making delightful noises, crying and moaning wantonly as he twitched with the effort to not thrust deep into Aziraphale's mouth. The angel loved the taste of him, licking generously, which Crowley seemed to love as he cried, moaned, and gasped with every lick. Crowley had his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders for support, comfort, it didn't matter. All that mattered was Crowley's desperate cries for more. He relented, allowing the slick length to fill his throat, and then he hummed. Aziraphale choked down the pain as Crowley came down his throat. He could feel the cum's burning warmth travel down his corporation. 

The almost final time it happened, Crowley was bent over. Aziraphale had rather enjoyed what humans called, 'rimming.' Crowley could see why, if he could see much of anything through the hazy burn that filled most of his body. He'd been kissed, licked, and bitten almost everywhere on his body. And now that torturous tongue was deep in his arsehole. The demon was sobbing openly now, fat tears leaking down his face, lips bitten raw and bleeding from when the pain was almost too much. When Aziraphale finally had his fill, when the angel finally lined up his cock, when he finally filled Crowley up, it didn't matter how gentle he was. He could have slammed in to the hilt as hard as he'd liked, and it would have still been a relief. He couldn't help it, his body relaxed in relief as the angel's cock cooled his tingling, burning hole. The heat of the angel nothing compared to the fires of pain that had been licked into him. The demon was almost humiliated that his cock still leaked despite how thoroughly taken apart he was. 

He pressed himself back, fucking himself on Aziraphale's cock until the angel got the hint. The pace was luxuriously slow, as if the angel was taking his time, even still. After what seemed like days, Aziraphale finally lost himself to passion and began taking his pleasure out of Crowley. When he reached for Crowley's cock, the demon stopped him, couldn't let it get to be too much. When Aziraphale came with a groan of Crowley's name, the white hot pain tipped him over. He screamed, coming untouched. When it was over, he twitched and writhed and cried, begging desperately, "it's too much! Please! Angel, please! Hurts!"

After a divine miracle, a soothing cool cloth, and a long talk. The two beings, celestial and infernal, agreed to not withhold secrets again. They'd continue their <strike>lustful</strike> <strike>loving</strike> fun bedroom activities, but now, they had precautions in place for when it became too much. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Crowley laying eggs, idk it was a dream I had. 
> 
> CW: egg-laying, mpreg I guess? man-shaped being with an unexpected pregnancy

Crowley was getting heavier, his stomach, normally smooth with hidden serpentine muscle, was now rounded just slightly. Aziraphale kind of secretly loved it. Loved that Crowley was indulging, and he _really_ was. Lately Crowley had been eating what would have been considered a normal amount to a human, but for Crowley meant he was positively ravenous. 

Aziraphale loved the newfound desire for food, as it meant he got to go on more dates. Three times a day sometimes, a cafe in the morning, some local place for lunch, and the Ritz or other grand restaurant for dinner. And between meals, he often caught Crowley snacking, nibbling away at a digestive or sipping tea. It was certainly strange, but the angel was rather caught up in the euphoria of it to comment.

What was most concerning, was after almost a month and a half, Crowley didn't call or stop by for a meal. Well, they didn't use to meet so often, and Crowley had rather been indulging heavily, perhaps his snake-like biology required him to sleep it off. Certainly it wasn't anything to be truly concerned about. But, well, with them still being in Heaven and Hell's bad books, perhaps it'd be best to check in on the dear boy?

He called first, which of course was the polite thing to do. But he didn't receive an answer. He tried once more, this time calling the landline at Crowley's flat. Instead of Crowley, he was left with Crowley's voice telling him to do whatever it was he knew to do in style? Well, then he'd just have to pop on over.

He knocked. No answer. He rang the little door chime. Still no answer. Whelp, he tried being polite. With a snap the door opened for him and he was hit with a wave of moist heat. Hurriedly he walked in, door closing behind him without prompting. The whole flat was terribly humid and hot, making Aziraphale sweaty and sticky in his many layers within seconds.

The place was eerily quiet, but he could hear a just-barely-there rasping and hissing. He followed the noise, growing more concerned with each step until he walked in on a... rather unusual sight. There, laying on the rather large bed was a black and red-bellied snake--Crowley, bigger and rounder than he'd been in the Garden.

The poor dear was hissing and writhing. As Aziraphale got closer, he could see three rather large lumpy shapes moving down Crowley's body. He rung his hands nervously before settling next to the large serpent's head, "Crowley? My dear, whatever is the matter? What is... what is going on?"

Aziraphale's name was hissed out, but it was more hiss than his name. He began gently stroking the cool scales on top of Crowley's head, which did little to soothe the demon, but was appreciated just the same. Crowley groaned, a very un-snake-like sound, "think I'm... laying."

"Well, yes, you are laying down," Aziraphale said, adorably confused and filled with a heart-wrenching concern. "But that's not what I'm asking, dear. How... how do I help you? I can't help unless you tell me what's wrong."

"Angel," Crowley gasped, a breathy thing made worse by the wracking pain shuddering through him. He hissed angrily, not at the angel, but at the situation, "I'm _laying_ Angel. Laying-" He was cut off with a groan as his tail lifted and the tip of an egg began peeking out. Aziraphale was suddenly sure that if snakes had tear ducts, Crowley would have tears in his eyes.

"Oh," Aziraphale said, rather dumbly, realization dawning as he looked over at what was happening. "Oh my! My dear," He mumbled, still trying to work through what this meant as he idly stroked Crowley's head still. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Crowley hissed and burrowed his head against Aziraphale's tummy. Finally the egg slipped free, and he nudged it pitifully trying to move it out of the way as a second egg was beginning to peak. Aziraphale reached one hand over to move the egg to press against Crowley's coils. It was leathery and just slightly slick.

The next egg came out much easier, perhaps aided by the previous one making way. Aziraphale dutifully moved that one to the side too. Poor Crowley was trembling with the effort. Aziraphale kissed the top of his head, and whispered encouragements in the side of his head, where he thought the ear of a snake might be.

Crowley hissed, tight and painful. The final egg was crowning now, but it seemed to be too much. Crowley thrashed his head, ruining Aziraphale's waistcoat. He began rocking, trying to ease the egg out. With a flash of fangs and a flicking tongue he hissed, "it's stuck... Angel."

"Oh dear, what can I do to help?" Aziraphale gingerly moved Crowley's head to rest on the bed instead of his lap and positioned himself to view the egg, just peaking through.

Crowley groaned, before biting and tearing his sheets with another violent thrash. He began whining, a high pitched keen, "don't know angel, please, just help. Do whatever, just please help."

Aziraphale bit his lip before gently prodding a finger on the lip of his cloaca. Crowley whimpered pitifully. He managed to slide a finger in, tight between egg and the inside of Crowley. With a slight miracle he began to lubricate the opening around the egg. "There you go my dear, try again."

Crowley hissed and growled, but he tried again. It was moderately easier now, with Aziraphale's hands helping coax the egg out and keeping the area well lubricated. With less difficulty, the two of them managed to get the egg out and with the rest of the clutch. Crowley was still breathing heavy, allowing Aziraphale a moment to run his hands up the dear snake's body and check for more eggs. When he didn't find any, he let his head fall back and with a soft sigh he said, "Rest dear boy, I think you're done now."


	10. WARNING: Implied/Referenced Noncon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of sorts of a Kinkmeme fill: [ here. WARNING: graphic noncon!](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/616.html?thread=818792)
> 
> If you don't want to/cant read it, the gist is that Gabriel had his way with Aziraphale, but it wasn't Aziraphale, but Crowley in his body. Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale until a visit from Gabriel ruins his silence.

Crowley had of course made sure that the bruises were healed, the... evidence was cleaned up, and the corporation was in tip-top shape. Well, as tip-top as it could be, given what Crowley had let happen to it. Which is why it wasn't until Gabriel's strange visit, that left him twitchy and paranoid, that Aziraphale ever found out.

Crowley had nearly had a fit when Gabriel walked in the bookshop's doors. He'd no-doubt thought Aziraphale hadn't noticed, but well, he was more attuned to the dear boy than ever. So of course he noticed when his eyes had widened behind his glasses, had noticed the little hitch of breath, the unmistakable fear that was quickly shoved down and almost immediately replaced with wrath.

Aziraphale had fully planned on waiting until Crowley was ready to talk about it, whatever it was. But when Crowley flinched at his casual touches, nearly bolted at the hand on his back leading him out of the restaurant, well, it was suddenly much more concerning. Crowley was shaking like an autumn leaf just about to fall. He waited until they got back to the bookshop and huddled up in the back room, wrapped in blankets with a warm mug of cocoa.

"Dear boy, could you tell me what was with Gabriel earlier?" Aziraphale tried, nearly biting his tongue at the hunted look in Crowley's eyes. He bit back the disapointment as Crowley hid his eyes behind his glasses once more. He must've been truly uncomfortable then. "I know something is wrong, dear, I just want to be able to help."

"I'm sorry," Crowley whispered, harsh and dejected. Aziraphale wasn't expecting the torrent of apologies that followed the first. Wasn't expecting Crowley to start crying, sobbing, choking. He'd curled in on himself, nails sharpening to claws and digging into his arms. Aziraphale quickly kneeled in front of him and tried to gently pry the curled fingers open. He gently stroked his hands.

"What happened dear?" Aziraphale's voice was so gentle, would it stay that way when he found out what was done to his body? It took a long time, a lot of stuttered apologies, a lot of aborted sentences, and a lot of trailed off sentences and hand waving gestures. At the end Aziraphale was horrified, that Gabriel would do it to him--and consequently Crowley.

"Oh my dear," Aziraphale gently wiped the tear tracks on Crowley's face. Sweet Crowley, who was more concerned over Aziraphale than what had happened to the poor demon. What should have happened to him, and not Crowley. He couldn't believe Gabriel would've done this. An angel, an Archangel, they were supposed to be the good guys.

"Sorry, angel," Crowley's voice was hoarse and wrecked, he could barely force the words out. He hadn't been able to look at Aziraphale at all during the entire explanation. How could he possibly find himself to blame? And holding onto that pain and guilt for so long, how could Aziraphale possibly convince him otherwise?

"Crowley," Aziraphale tried, voice firm, but he kept up the gentle rubbing of his thumbs on Crowley's cheeks. He smiled, heart wrenching in its sadness, "my dear, sweet boy, none of this was your fault. I don't blame you, only the one responsible for your suffering, and that is in no uncertain terms, Gabriel." He lay a gentle kiss on Crowley's forehead, bidding him rest, recuperate, heal. Aziraphale swore then that Gabriel would never hurt either of them again.


	11. CW: mind control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: Kilgrave, mind control, nonconsensual feeding

Something was wrong. His My-Angel-is-in-Danger sense was going off like mad. The strangest part, was that Aziraphale was in his bookshop, a place that should have been safe. Crowley burst into the shop, still carrying the breakfast he'd brought for Aziraphale. The sight that greeted him was... Well, confusing.

There was someone that looked a lot like him, standing right behind his Angel, who looked shocked, relieved, then horrified. "Crowley! He's-"

"Silence," the stranger cut off whatever Aziraphale had been about to say with a twisted smile. Surprisingly, Aziraphale's mouth clacked shut, right as a thin hand wrapped around his throat, just under the angel's chin.

"Don't you touch him," Crowley hissed. He set down the bag he'd been holding, Aziraphale would want to eat after the demon took care of this.

"Don't want me touching him? Then, how about you start touching him?" Crowley didn't have much time to be confused before he found his body moving forward against his will. His hands immediately cupped Aziraphale's face and stroked the angels cheek.

Aziraphale tried to pull away, fear dominating his expression now. "Now, now don't move, just sit there and accept it," Kilgrave, that's who this was, chided softly. Crowley should've known. "What have you brought? Go on, tell us."

"Ssssconess," it was forced out of his throat with a hissing lisp. _Fuck, Fuck, Fuck._ "For the angel."

"What a _good_ pet you make," Kilgrave laughed. He pat the top of Crowley's head, making a point. "How about you fetch that, and feed your angel." Crowley snatched his hands away and grabbed the to go box of scones from out the bag. With shaking hands he grabbed one and offered it to Aziraphale's mouth.

"Take a bite, Angel," Kilgrave leaned over Aziraphale's shoulder and watched. Aziraphale closed his eyes as his mouth opened once more and bit the still-warm pastry.


End file.
